A Northern Love Song
by radiumcandy
Summary: April's father takes her to the far northern Canadian wilderness for her safety, but Donatello is determined to find a way back to
1. Chapter 1

Light.

Not a pleasant glow, not a light at the end of the tunnel. It was searingly bright, literally white-hot as it baked April's face. It burned scarlet even through her closed eyelids; she tried to jerk away, but her head and neck were held immobile in some kind of vise. No, a helmet. Metal, heated seemingly to the temperature of the sun by the light; a burning agony throbbing through her skull and cooking her brain even as dozens of tubes seemed to be sucking it out. A shaft of harsh white tinged with sickly magenta seemed to pierce her right between the eyes, and April screamed. Though it burned and scraped at her throat, her cry sounded strangled to her own ears; something was muffling her voice, though her mouth was free.

"NO!" April bolted upright in bed. Glancing towards the window, she cringed; the heavy blue blanket covering the glass had fallen to the side, allowing just a sliver of light in. She stood up, wincing at the feeling of cold wood that went instantly through her sock feet, and padded over to the window. As she thought; snow had fallen overnight, and the morning sunlight reflecting off the white drifts was achingly bright. The new snowfall had covered the foundations of the old abandoned buildings from the 1950s, the camping debris of the previous teams stationed here, and even the entrance to the mine itself; from her vantage point, April could see nothing but walls of powdery snow and the occasional black filigree of underbrush beyond, at the tree line.

They had been at the abandoned mine for close to three months now, since high summer, though it could hardly be called such even in July. It was bitingly cold every day, and the frost-stunted pine trees did nothing to shield the research team from the icy wind that blew off the enormous lake beyond. April's father had accepted a commission from the government to study mental changes in teams working in isolated areas, and you could hardly get more isolated than Canada's far north, just forty miles south of the Arctic Circle. Though it had been unspoken, April knew it was to protect her; despite the Kraang's defeat, neither she nor her father had slept soundly since. Here, the comparative silence and monotony of the wilderness was somehow more comforting than NYC's endless crush of traffic noise and flashing lights, though April never managed to shake the feeling that she wasn't really safe. She kept it to herself, though; it was a decent existence. With satellite Internet, she could continue her AP classes, and even e-mail her friends, though it was too slow for instant messaging.

_Friends._

That word always gave April pause as she gazed out over the northern desolation. To tell the truth, she missed her turtle friends most of all; the other faces and voices she'd known over the years faded into a blur compared to Leo's quiet strength, Raph's electric intensity, Mikey's sunny warmth and vigor for living...and, well...

April's mouth set in a hard line as she flopped back down on the bed to struggle into her snow boots. That was a daily ordeal even with the slippery fur lining, but at least it was a distraction from her isolation for a few minutes. Shrugging into her yellow parka, she easily did up the zipper, storm flap, and ties despite fingers already numbed by the omnipresent cold. Easing the heavy cabin door open, April emerged into the northern dawn with a chosen blankness of mind, grateful for the cold that nipped at her nose and forced her into clarity of mind.


	2. Chapter 2

"Time to pack it in, kid." April winced and tossed a last twig of kindling onto the sled. As she rose from a crouch, every joint and muscle in her body seemed to protest, producing a chorus of pops and cracking sounds as she straightened fully. No one's body ever worked quite right in the cold, although you got used to it after a while. Her father chuckled and patted her on the back.

Suddenly, she was startled by the sound of a motor in the distance, high above. Beside her, Dr. O'Neil frowned.

"That's odd. The supply plane isn't due till Friday." Together, they watched the small plane seemingly crawl through the expanse of pale cerulean sky above, flashing silvery and rose-gold as it reflected the glow of sunset in the cirrus clouds. Dr. O'Neil shrugged and squeezed April's shoulder. "Hope the landing strip is still good. Get inside before the sun sets. It's supposed to get down to minus ten tonight."

"Yeah, Dad, sure." April hopped onto the snowmobile dragging the sled full of firewood and gunned the motor. Though the cabins had kerosene heaters, there was always the possibility of the supply plane being unable to land, so the research team had to be as self-sufficient as possible out here. She had been surprised to find out she'd have her own little cabin, set a bit off from the two bigger ones that housed the team, including her father. She was the only female in camp, and he had confided in her with great seriousness that he thought she could use some time alone after all she'd been through lately. Though it was lonely at times, April was mostly grateful for the quiet solitude.

At her cabin, April stopped her snowmobile in a spray of white crystals; all around her, the landscape was shifting from white to hazy blue as the sun sank in the west; to the east, the forest was already a twisting mass of black. She often imagined she could see eyes among the branches, though there was little wildlife other than snowy owls here. With a shiver, she kicked the trailer jack between the snowmobile and the sled loose, tossed a tarp over the pile of firewood, and hurried inside.

This was the part of her day she looked forward to the most. Parka, boots, snow pants, and vest went flying in a flurry of yellow, black, and bright red as she hurriedly stripped out of her clothing. The kerosene heater sputtered and thrummed to life, quickly filling the tiny space with a soothing, pulsating heat. Still in her pink flannel long johns, she happily burrowed into the mountain of blankets and sleeping bags that made up her bed. She reached for the book she'd been reading, a yellowed and tattered tome of reptile biology that had been a gift from Donatello.

Though she avoided thinking about him in the morning when she needed all her mental energy to face the day ahead, April let her thoughts drift to him, and linger, during these long nights with nothing to do but read and contemplate. Looking at her own pale fingers splayed out over the pages in the eerie greenish glow of the lantern mantle, she could still see his much larger hand cradling the book with true intellectual's reverence as he gave it to her.

_"For everything you've taught me about humans...I want you to have this." _As always, the smile he gave her had been deep, warm, and genuine, yet painfully shy; fragile, as though she could shatter it with a single word. His fingers had brushed over hers for a moment, and April had been so tempted to grab his hand, press her cheek into his palm, that she had surprised even herself. Resting her chin in her hand, the tiny words below seemed to blur together. April stroked her own cheek, wanting to pretend...but no, it wasn't right. His skin was much cooler, more callused; if he'd ever touched her this way, it would have been with the practiced grace of a machinist, yet hesitating. Still, she closed her eyes and let herself imagine the velvety warmth of those soulful brown eyes gazing into her own, the quiet optimism of his lips drifting close to hers as they held the worn old book between them...


	3. Chapter 3

April started awake at the sound of a knock on the wooden door. Had she overslept? She glanced over at the window; there was nothing but black in the space between the blanket and the window frame. Reluctant to leave her fortress of warmth, she looked at the door again, wondering if she'd dreamt it.

Another knock.

With a groan, April rolled out of bed. "Coming!" Hurriedly, she slithered back into her parka and snow pants, dreading the icy bite of the night air when she opened the door. It had to be freezing or below by now. She yanked open the door, expecting her father, and instead stared in blank incomprehension at the sight before her.

"Um...hi, April. Can I come in?"

"Oh my God!" April grabbed the turtle by the sleeve of his anorak, all but dragging him over the threshold, then slamming the door behind him. "What are you doing here?"

"I..." Donatello looked down into her flushed, confused face; his mind went blank, the way it always did when he was around her. It's not like he could just say why he'd come: _I couldn't stand life without you a week longer. _His mouth opened and closed; no sound came out.

Her arms were around him in a moment, hugging him almost too violently. He felt as though April was squeezing what little of the stinging cold air he'd been able to breathe back out of his lungs, but she was so warm and her hair glowed in shades of red and copper and golden in the dim lantern light. As she looked up, the gentle azure glow of her gaze trapped him, reminding him of why he'd fallen in love on that rooftop a year ago and over two thousand miles south. Donatello wanted to hug her back, but somehow, his arms hung uselessly at his side.

"Donnie, I've missed you so much!" The words shocked him, making him jerk a little. April pulled away, concerned; unbidden even by herself, she reached up to touch his cheek, which was freezing cold even behind the fur trim of his anorak hood. "What's wrong? Talk to me!"

"April, I..." Donatello's voice came out hoarse, and quickly cracked; his throat was dry from much more than the cold. "I just needed to see you..." he finished lamely.

April let her hand drop, somewhat awkwardly.

"How did you get here? Without someone seeing you, I mean?"

"You remember our military junkyard?" She nodded. "I found an old amphibious prop plane that was still repairable. I had to work on it on-site, since there was no way to drag something like that back to the lair." She was staring at him in something like disbelief now. Donatello averted his eyes, a deep flush coloring his cheeks at her perusal. "I taught myself to fly it from old manuals. Well, sort of...I didn't really know if I could fly it until I was in the air. I stayed bundled up at refueling stops so no one would see...what I am...and somehow I made it here." _To see you._

Her voice was quieter now. "How did you survive the cold? Even with all that gear, it should be too much."

He smiled, clearly pleased with his own ingenuity. "Lots of chemical hot packs."

"Still..." April hugged him tighter again, and he felt light-headed from more than being squeezed too hard. "You must have been so cold."

Finally, his arms decided to work, and he embraced her in return. "It was worth it for you."

"Do you want to sit down?" April shuffled around the tiny cabin; the bed and nightstand, plus a worn-out orange crate, were the only furniture, though she'd asked the lead scientist to at least order her a desk and chair. She sat heavily down on the bed, shoving some of the bedding out of the way. Tossing his _bo_ to the side, Donatello sat down next to her, realizing rather awkwardly that he was on her bed. She had withdrawn a bit, seeming more like her old self now, and he found himself already with a fierce ache for her to touch him again.

Her voice was small, hesitant, like a pin dropping in the otherwise-silent room. "Are you cold now?"

"Well-" The last round of hot packs he'd stuffed into his clothing had been cooling for a while.

"You have to get warm!" April's chiding made him feel warmer already, but he let her swaddle him in the blankets. He flushed again as he felt her curl up next to him, though they were both still fully clothed. In the space of a few seconds, he was more than warm enough, but Donatello wasn't about to complain.

April propped herself up on one elbow and looked down at him with a frown. "You look flushed. I know you blush easily, but..." She trailed off, then cleared her throat.

Donatello closed his eyes. "April, I'm fine." He really wasn't, not in her bed with her body so close to him, but he'd die before he'd admit it, before he'd do anything to interrupt this bliss. Just being next to her was worth every time he'd risked his shell sneaking into the junkyard night after night, every time the old plane had sputtered threateningly over the endless northern woods, every time the wind had bitten into the skin of his face during the hike to her cabin.

"No you're not. Now you're overheating." She had read enough of the book he'd given her to realize that.

"April!" Donatello's voice escaped in an unmanly squeak as he felt her tugging at his anorak, undoing every snap on the storm flap with a single yank and peeling the zipper down. She tossed it aside, starting on the layers of old sweatshirts and t-shirts beneath until she finally found bare skin beneath. Her hand brushed over his plastron, making him suck in his breath suddenly, and she hurriedly snatched it away. "Sorry!"

"It's okay, I don't-" Slowly, their eyes met over the rumpled blankets. April's cheeks were as pink as his own, now. "I don't mind." He couldn't help reaching out, stroking the backs of his fingers over her cheek, feeling the softness and warmth against his skin. "Did you really miss me?"

Silence. Donatello wanted to turn his head to look at her, but couldn't bring himself to move, to risk ruining this fragile moment of intimacy between them. It had to be a dream, after all.

There was a rustling of nylon and wool blankets, and he started as he realized that April was beneath the blankets with him, cuddled close. He glanced down just in time to see her lay her fiery red head on his shoulder. Donatello's heart all but stopped as she pressed a kiss into his plastron, right over his heart.

"April, I-"

"No talking." Her voice was a low murmur against his plastron then, suddenly, against his lips. She was holding his hand against her cheek, pressing into his touch as though she had been starving for it.

_Wow. I can't believe I had to travel two thousand four hundred miles north to get my first kiss, but wow._

April pulled away after a moment, looking down with guarded concern. After a long minute, he finally opened his eyes; they were like melted chocolate, liquid with emotion and pleasure, and warmer than all the blankets on Earth.

"Oh, April." She was suddenly aware of his true strength as Donatello's arms wrapped around her, pulling her close for another kiss. This time his mouth explored hers more thoroughly, laden with both passion and his unique curiosity, but she found she was happy to let him do as he liked. His tongue slipped into her mouth, making them both gasp a little at the sudden, more intense sensation; as he kissed her more deeply, she felt a low, rumbling purr cascade through him. Her hands braced against his plastron, pulling away a bit; she opened her eyes to see the disappointment and hint of hurt on his face.

She leaned down to ghost a kiss over his lips. "Don't look at me that way, Donnie." Her own parka had never seemed more awkward as she tried to work it off her arms, until she could finally toss it aside. He went very still beneath her as April squirmed out of her snow pants, leaving her in long underwear. April sat up, watching his face as she undid the tiny pearl buttons one by one. His expression went from carefully guarded to awed as the pale pink flannel fell away, revealing the smooth and creamy flesh beneath.

"Touch me..." Hoarse, whispered words. She closed her eyes, then squeezed them shut tightly as she felt his slightly rough, but infinitely gentle hands brushing lightly up her arms, over her shoulders, and drifting down. April shuddered with pleasure as he caressed her, leaning into his touch with a low sound of need. Though the night air was cold on her now-exposed back, she had never felt warmer in her life. Swallowing hard, she forced her eyes open to look at him. "More, please..."

Donatello couldn't resist a chuckle, a rich and velvety sound to April's ears after all these nights alone.

"Anything for you, my dear." His gentle touch slid back up her arms, pulling her down; his fingers slipped into her hair, tangling in the gingery softness as he kissed her again. At the same time, he carefully rolled her beneath him, balancing most of his weight on his elbows rather than on her. He kissed the place where her cheek and ear met, pulling away just enough to look into her eyes. His voice was soft, but serious.

"April, are you sure this is what you want?" She nodded mutely, and Donatello sighed with something akin to relief and worry all at once.


	4. Chapter 4

"April."

"Mmmmmm." April tried to ignore the voice murmuring her name, but it was oddly persistent. How strange for a voice in her dreams.

"April, wake up." A large hand on her bare shoulder beneath the blankets, rousing her from slumber with the utmost gentleness.

One blue eye opened at last, fixing Donatello with an annoyed stare. If her pique bothered him, he showed no sign of it, instead grinning at her in his typically unrestrained, gap-toothed fashion that was so charming. She couldn't help smiling back, though she all but dozed off again.

He tugged the blankets away, leaving her exposed to the air. April shuddered at the sudden wall of cold, then at the intensity of his darkened gaze on her skin.

Donatello held his breath. No, she had taken it away, for the hundredth time that night. He bent down to kiss her, at the same time handing her her snow boots.

"Get dressed. You have to see this."

April suddenly realized why the room seemed colder than it should be; though the heater was still running, the cabin door was propped slightly open with her old fruit crate. Struggling into her clothes and boots, she dimly wondered what could possibly excite him enough to risk going out in the subarctic cold in the middle of the night. From the corner of her eye, she noticed reddish and green glimmers on the bank of snow just outside her door. As she stood up, Donatello wrapped a blanket around them both, taking her hand beneath it as he led her outside.

"Look, April." Donatello's face was drawn to the sky as though by magnetic force, and the look of quiet joy and serenity on his face made her heart clench, followed by a wave of tenderness. Gripping his hand more tightly, she looked up too.

Wide ribbons of green light stretched and rippled across the inky sky, interspersed with narrower bands of red. The stars seemed to flicker and dance like candle flames beyond the shimmering veil of color. In the absolute silence of night, April thought she could hear a faint hiss as the curtains of the aurora rose and fell. Still watching the sky, Donatello pulled her closer to him. When she met his eyes at last, she realized that he'd been staring at her rather than the cosmic spectacle above.

"April..." His lips were suddenly pressed to her forehead, murmuring her name against her skin. She had stopped feeling the biting cold long ago, cocooned with him in their private northern paradise.

"Donnie?" She swallowed hard, her emotions threatening to rise up and choke her at last, after everything that had happened tonight.

"Please...stay with me?" It was a softly-spoken plea, but taut with need. April let out a sigh that made a gentle breeze over his face.

"Always."


End file.
